A vacant mind and lost thoughts

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A Strand in the Thread

Currently, I’m working on three different stories, while smaller, flash fiction jump in from time to time just because. I was thinking I should make an attempt at discipline but in order for this to work, I should probably narrow down a story to work on and actually finish the dang thing. So, I’m asking for help. Which one should I work on?

I will post the first paragraph of each one and in the comments section, tell me which one you think I should work on. Whichever gets the most votes will be the winner and I will put my blood, sweat and tears into seeing it to completion. I will also post sample chapters of it from time to time, because, well, I am a nice guy. So, here we go:

Vicarious:

The luminous glow of the screen cleaved through the dark, clearing a small path through the blackness of the room and drawing in the attention of the man who sat in front of it. His fingers were caked in artificial cheese flavoring while the remains of processed food littered his stained shirt; lasting evidence of the latest meal sacrificed to the man’s gluttony. A symphony of sounds emanated from the screen while images darting out from the TV bore themselves into his mind at the speed of light, pushing back thought and leaving only raw emotion; a living zombie, enslaved to a box.

The Dancing Dead:

The slow rhythm started as a solitary thumping from the center of a djembe drum. The closed-fist pounding on the goat-skin head of the drum produced a heavy bass that, when amplified from the microphone placed close by, covered the entire room with its deep sound. Not long after, an acoustic guitar sprang to life with a repetitive finger picking melody accompanied by a magnificent woman’s voice belting out something beautiful but unintelligible. As her voice faded in and out like a light bulb about to die, two men chanted behind her, keeping the rhythm going with the drum and guitar, adding an almost hypnotizing air to the song.

The Demon Inside

Kade sat on his front porch in his rocking chair, a red cherry burning at the end of his cigar. Night dominated the landscape around him, leaving only stars in the sky and shadows on the ground as his companions. Crickets sang along with a few scattered frogs while a small brook babbled it’s never ending wisdom somewhere off in the distance. It seemed that solitude was impossible when alone in nature.

There you guys go. Cast your vote in the comments section and help me with a little discipline and concentration.